


I Better Be

by MasterTLA



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Backpack of Feels, Blood, Death, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, M/M, Mild Gore, Original Character(s), Short Flares of Angst, There Will Be A Cure, Werewolves Get Found Out, Zombies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-05
Updated: 2014-02-24
Packaged: 2018-01-03 14:04:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1071326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MasterTLA/pseuds/MasterTLA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I love you, Derek."</p>
<p>"Don't do that, Stiles," the alpha growled into the phone. </p>
<p>"Do what?"</p>
<p>"Don't say goodbye."</p>
<p>He heard Stiles chuckle. "I'll never say goodbye. I'm too stubborn for that; you're stuck with me for life."</p>
<p>"I better be."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just thought I'd let you know that this first chapter is to test the waters! I wanna know what you guys think about this! :D Should I continue it? Because I have so much planned! :D
> 
> There IS a happy ending! This fic isn't all that angsty at all because I can't handle that!
> 
> Leave a comment AND/or kudos to let me know if I should keep working on this! :D
> 
> And I don't own Teen Wolf :)

_"Stay there, Stiles. I'll come get you."_

_"The hell you will," Stiles scoffed into the phone. "You have to stay in Beacon Hills. Keep everyone safe."_

_"What about you?"_

_Despite the doom and gloom hanging over his head, Stiles smiled. "I'll come home when I can. You know me, Sourwolf. I'll be fine."_

_Derek sighed. "I_ do _know you. That's why I want to come get you."_

_"Hey!" Stiles exclaimed indignantly. "I can take care of myself. Jerkwolf."_

_"I know you can take care of yourself. But you also want to take care of everybody else. You always put your own safety second. I wouldn't. I don't value strangers more than you. Needless sacrificing wouldn't be an issue."_

_The words made Derek sound cold and uncaring, but Stiles knew that he was just worried about him and he felt butterflies. "I love you too, Sour-" He changed his mind and said, "Derek. I love you too, Derek."_

_"Don't do that, Stiles," the alpha growled._

_"Do what?"_

_"Don't say goodbye."_

_Stiles chuckled. "I'll never say goodbye to you. I'm too stubborn for that; you're stuck with me for life."_

_"I better be."_

**TLA**

"No!" Derek barked, "Never turn your back in a fight."

The young teen, Aaron or something like that, glared at the angry man. "It's a fucking doll!" he exclaimed.

The gymnasium froze as every eye turned to the pair. Aaron-or-something was new; he didn't know any better. He would learn.

In the blink of an eye Aaron-or-something was being held inches off the ground by a clawed hand around his throat. He struggled and gasped for air, all the while trying to avoid an angry red glare.

"Am I just a doll?" Derek growled through sharpened teeth. The kid shook his head quickly. "You couldn't avoid me and you were staring right at me. The dead can't move that fast, but don't you ever turn your back again. You hear me?"

"Y-Yes, sir..."

Derek dropped the boy and reigned in his wolf. "Everyone get back to work!" he instructed, walking out to the sounds of renewed training. He made his way to City Hall.

It had been almost a year since the virus broke out, a virus that brought the dead back to life. Or, as Deaton likes to say, the virus that reanimates the bodies of the dead. As far as he and Lydia can tell, the dead have no sense of who they once were; so they aren't brought back to life. Their bodies simply come back hungry. The affectionate term is 'zombie.' They are very slow and mindless. All they want is food, and as long as the blood is fresh they'll eat whatever it is.

Despite all of the popular zombie movies where the entire population was devastated, it wasn't too hard to set up camps and civilizations for survivors. The onslaught didn't hit all of a sudden; the damage took time. During that time, Derek and his pack-along with Chris and his hunters- were able to stabilize Beacon Hills and create a safe community. They had running water, electricity, phones still worked occasionally, radios worked, too.

Somehow, Derek had been designated a leader, alongside Sheriff Stilinski and Chris Argent. He assumed it was because early on a group of zombies found Beacon Hills, before the walls and guards, and the pack had wolfed out to help defeat them. Werewolves weren't as scary as flesh-eating zombies. Since he was the alpha, he became someone that everyone went to for help. Apparently, from communication with other packs, werewolves everywhere were stepping out of the shadows, protecting the human in their territory. It was kind of surreal; he never would have guessed that werewolves would be accepted as part of society, but then again he never would have guessed that zombies would be a thing.

Deaton is positive that no natural virus could reanimate the dead, no man-made either. The best he can guess is that some sort of magic was used-a spell gone wrong or something like that. He and Lydia work constantly on a cure. Derek is confident that they'll be successful eventually; they are two of the smartest people that he knows.

When he gets to City Hall, after tons of awkward greetings from townspeople that he's still not used to, he walks straight to his "office." He isn't sure why he needs an office, especially in City Hall, but his mom always taught him that it was rude to refuse a gift more than once. And he might have refused a couple of times before finally accepting but he was sure his mom would forgive him. Erica was twirling around in his chair, Isaac was fiddling a pen around his fingers, and Boyd was standing in the corner watching the other two betas.

"Derek!" Erica exclaimed, "Welcome back!" She stood up and he took her place. She nuzzled into him; Isaac followed her example. Boyd placed a hand on his shoulder.

"How did training go?" Isaac questioned.

The alpha shrugged. "Some new kid mouthed off, and I put him in his place."

"I hate I missed it!" Erica pouted.

Usually the betas went with him and helped with the training. But every five days they stay behind to listen to the radios. "Any news?" Derek questioned, trying not to get his hopes up too high and not let his fear get the best of him. No news is good news, right?

Boyd shook his head. "We didn't hear anything. But I'm sure everything is okay."

"Yeah!" Erica and Isaac agreed.

Derek nodded and stood. "I'm going to patrol." He tried to escape before the betas felt how upset he was, but he was sure they knew. He left the Hall and made his way to the large wall and fence that surrounded Beacon Hills; he shifted and began to run.

Not only had it almost been a year since the outbreak, but it had been about the same amount of time since he had seen Stiles. None of the pack had seen him. It really bothered Derek and his wolf that he hadn't gotten to see or touch Stiles in so long. He felt like half of himself was missing. There was a huge, gaping, Stiles-shaped hole in his life that nothing other than Stiles could fill. In the last phone conversation he and Stiles had, when Stiles told him he was going to make his way home, they decided that every five days-if possible- Stiles would try and contact the pack via radio. It was too quiet in the beginning, but after a few weeks they got a weak signal that werewolf ears could barely pick up. That continued for a while, putting Derek, the pack, and the Sheriff at ease, but for the last few weeks they hadn't heard anything.

Everyone assured him that it was fine. Not hearing anything didn't necessarily mean something had happened. Maybe Stiles just couldn't find a signal or something. And Derek would know if anything had happened right? He was positive that he would be able to feel it if the other half of his soul was ripped away. Actually, he doubted he would even be alive if Stiles wasn't. Life wouldn't be so cruel as to leave him alone after taking Stiles.

But it was still scary as hell. For every day that he doesn't hear from Stiles he regrets not just going to get him like he wanted to in the first place all the more. He can't help but think that if anything happens to the human that it will be all his fault, just one more death on his conscience, one more of his loved ones that he didn't save.

This is where Stiles tells him that the fire wasn't his fault. That Kate was the monster, not him. Stiles saves him from himself.

He runs faster and faster around the territory even though he knows that no matter how fast he goes, there are some things he can't outrun.

**TLA**

There isn't much that he knows outside of the hunger. It gnaws at him like... What is something that gnaws? Surely there's something, he just isn't sure what it is. But the hunger, it gnaws at him. He feels it deep down like a hurt. Or is it an ache? It's not a good feeling-that's what he means.

But he doesn't want to eat. He can't look for food. There's something else that he has to find. Something more important than food. He doesn't know what it is, but besides the hunger that's what he knows.

He's looking for something.

**TLA**


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not very long, but it's an update! :D I wanted to let you guys know that I'm working on it!

**TLA**

Derek doesn't stop patrolling until the sun is going down. He's worked up a sweat and has to catch his breath. He found long ago that physical exertion really helps calm him down. It's supposed to be a nice, cool night. The breeze that he can feel as he walks back to the Hall feels good on his sweaty skin.

Everything will be okay. He just has to trust that Stiles can take care of himself and will be home as soon as he can. It's a pretty long trek from Chicago to Beacon Hills, especially without a reliable car or having to take detours, fighting off zombies, meeting survivors, walking, resting, eating. Derek can't expect Stiles to walk straight to Beacon Hills without stopping or anything. So, everything is okay. Stiles will get here. It's all good.

When he got to the Hall for the second time, his betas were waiting for him outside: Erica, Boyd, Isaac, Jackson, Danny, and Peter. Scott must be with Allison and her dad, patrolling. Melissa and the Sheriff were probably having dinner. And Lydia was probably still with Deaton, working; they worked well past dark during the week.

"There's a group coming in; they found our station on a car radio a few miles out," Boyd said.

"Yeah, they should be here soon," Danny added. He was the one who caught them. He spent most of his days with radios and computers and phones, trying to get everything to work.

Derek nodded. "Okay. Do Chris and the Sheriff know?" The betas nod in return. "How many?"

Danny shrugged. "Didn't say. I heard a bunch of voices, really excited to hear me. I'd say at least five or six."

Chris settled the last group that showed up and the Sheriff before him. It was Derek's turn now. He could hear them off in the distance, a group of them. "Isaac, go tell Deaton that a new group is coming. They may need medical-" He froze. The breeze that had cooled him down before sent his heartbeat skyrocketing.

"Do you smell that?" Erica croaked.

"Stiles..."

They all took off at a sprint.

**TLA**

He walks.

He can't stop moving. He has to keep going. There's somewhere he needs to be. He doesn't know where, or why, but he doesn't stop.

As he walks he tries to remember anything. He can't, not really. He sees green and knows 'grass' or when mixed with brown 'trees.' Other things move around him, things that make his hunger worse. He knows they would help him feel better but he can't name them. He doesn't want to eat anything that doesn't have a name. He should know! But he doesn't.

It's frustrating.

He slumps-waddles?-carries? He... He slips? No. That isn't right. He limps? That seems right. Something happened to his branch a few walks back. No-not branch. Limb? Leg! His leg doesn't want to work. He thinks it slows his walk which isn't good because he has somewhere to be.

But where?

**TLA**

The new group didn't even have a chance to enter the gates before Derek and the pack swarmed them. "Stiles!" Derek called. "Stiles!" He wasn't imagining that smell, the sweet but spicy mixture that was pure Stiles.

"I don't see him," Isaac said.

No. Fate wouldn't do this to him. It was more than cruel to rise his hopes so much before shoving a knife in his gut and twisting. The betas started herding the group while he closed his eyes and enhaled deeply. Peter lead them away. He could smell Stiles' scent like he could smell Erica's or Boyd's, and there was another wolf here. He growled.

"Alpha Hale?" a voice questioned.

Derek opened red eyes; this stranger was a werewolf. And with him came the smell of Stiles. Derek had the wolf by the throat before either of them could even take another breath. "What did you do to him?"

The wolf struggled to speak with Derek's claws squeezing him so tightly. "W-Wait..." He flashed blue eyes and stretched his neck the best he could in submission. "I... I didn't... I didn't do any... anything... I swear..."

"Derek!" Boyd and Jackson pulled him off of the wolf and put some space between them.

The strange wolf rubbed his throat and gathered his breath.

"Talk!" Derek barked, only lettting his betas restrain him because he needed to hear what the damn wolf had to say about Stiles. Where is Stiles?

"I'm Adrian," the wolf said. "I'm supposed to give this to you." He bent down and picked up a rather hefty backpack.

A very familiar backpack.

"Oh my gawd..." Erica whimpered.

Derek felt like the world had just fallen from beneath his feet. He didn't care how weak he looked from the trembling of his hands as he grabbed the bag from the other wolf.

He was dreaming wasn't he? Because there was no way that this was really happening.

No way.

Seriously. This couldn't be happening. No.

No no no no no no no no no no no no no no-

"Boyd get Derek out of here. Me and Isaac will take Adrien. Jackson, Danny, go home. We'll meet in the morning."

"Come on, Derek."

He couldn't see or feel anything that wasn't the bag in his hands. It was like his entire life was reduced and refocused on a worn out, over-stuffed, black bookbag. He couldn't say how he went from the front gates of the city to the front steps of his house. One minute he was grabbing the bag, the next he was being pushed inside his house by Boyd.

"Don't do this right now, Derek."

Boyd almost lost his hand when he tried to grab the bag from his alpha.

"Leave," Derek growled.

"I don't think-"

"LEAVE!" the alpha roared. Boyd could feel the word deep in his bones. He left even though he knew that Derek shouldn't be alone right now.

When he was left alone with only the extra scent of Stiles' backpack, he couldn't hold it in anymore. He couldn't even look inside the bag, not yet. All he could do was cry. He hadn't cried since the last time his entire world had been taken from him.

But this time he didn't think he could be pulled out of the flames.

**TLA**

Erica and Isaac were leading the werewolf to his own room in a hotel when they felt their alpha's pain. No, not pain: anguish. It knocked the breath out of both of them.

"I didn't want to be the one that did this," Adrien said, rubbing his chest. He wasn't part of the Hale pack but even he could feel the heavy pressure on his chest. "I could tell by the way that Stiles talked about him that he and your alpha were the real thing."

"Real thing?" Erica questioned, anything to keep her mind occupied on something that didn't destroy her.

"Werewolves mate for life," Isaac said, "Derek taught us that."

Adrien nodded his head. "That's very true. We mate for life, but that doesn't necessarily mean we've found our perfect mate. Our soulmate. It's an extremely rare pairing. Most of us find very close seconds, never the one."

"There's no way that Derek and... and..." Erica sighed and took a deep breath. "There's no way they weren't each other's one."

Adrien smiled. "I could tell only after a few days of being around Stiles. He-"

"Stop. Please?" Erica begged. "This is your room. Have a good night." And she stormed off, wiping furiously at her eyes.

Isaac and Adrien watched her leave before they looked at each other. "You kind of look like Derek; I bet that's why Stiles started talking to you. Right?" Isaac questioned. Because yes, it hurt, it hurt like hell, but Isaac wanted to hear about Stiles. Talking about it was his way of coping- Stiles taught him that. And Stiles would appreciate the talking.

Adrien laughed. "You're exactly right. I was hiding out by myself when a group passed by, and I decided to follow behind them. I've never really had a pack of my own, always been an omega, so I didn't want to intrude in this little human pack, but I followed them for the noise. It helped make the days pass quicker. You don't know how quiet it is out there when you're by yourself, especially-"

"At night?"

"Exactly..." He looked at the blonde wolf for a second. "Would you like to come in? I can finish the story and we don't have to stand in the hallway."

Isaac felt his cheeks heat up. "Um... sure? I mean, yeah, yes. Okay. Sure." How embarassing! Get it together, Isaac!

**TLA**

This is what Adrien looks like!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Be careful, it's a little sad at the beginning!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not a very long update, but it's an update! :D
> 
> I wanna update more but classes are gross and time-consuming! And I can't just write something and post it! I have to make sure it's good and whatnot! :D If I don't like something I have to fix it and everything!
> 
> Also, I'm trying to work on Not So Bad too! :D
> 
> Please comment and leave kudos so I know what you think! :D

**TLA**

Derek didn't want to wake up; he didn't want to wake up in a world without Stiles. He didn't want to wake up and realize that this nightmare would never end. But. There was a very familiar warmth at his back. He couldn't decide if it felt good or if it hurt.

It wasn't often that he was the little spoon when they went to sleep at night. In fact, he actually preferred having the human in _his_ arms. He liked to feel like even while they were alseep he was keeping Stiles safe. If anyone wanted to get to Stiles they would have to go through Derek. However, there were some nights, some bad nights, when Derek didn't feel very strong. When he needed someone to protect _him_. Stiles always just knew without having to be asked. He didn't have to say anything; he would just take his place behind Derek and snuggle in close.

He opened his eyes; he was still in his room. When he looked down, familiar arms were wrapped around him. Still slim, but still strong; still pale, but still warm. He only moved enough to grab slender fingers in his own.

"Derek?"

"Stiles..." He couldn't turn no matter how much he wanted to. He was worried that if he moved too much then it would all disappear. "I had a terrible dream," he said. "You were gone. Dead."

The arms tightened around him. Warm breath tickled his neck. "You're dreaming right now, Sourwolf."

The alpha sighed, eyes stinging. His voice was low and gruff from the lump in his throat when he tried to reply. "Don't let me wake up then."

"You have to."

"No I don't." Because he really didn't want to.

"People need you, Sourwolf."

"But I need _you_ ," he replied quietly. Any louder and he wouldn't have been able to hold in his tears.

It was quiet for a while until, "I'm so sorry, Derek."

"You said you would never say goodbye."

"I didn't."

"You just did."

It got quiet again. Derek wanted to say so much but he couldn't. Stiles didn't like to hear him cry or see him upset. He would get both if the alpha tried to say anything. He focused on the warmth of the human's arms around him, the steady sound of his heartbeat, the spicy scent that was purely Stiles.

The silence was once again broken by the human. "Will you bring me home?"

Derek's entire body tensed. It was like he was being pulled taught like guitar strings.

"I um... I hate to ask you that. I do. But I can't..." He took in a shuddery breath and Derek could smell the salt from his forming tears. "I need to be near my dad. And-and I wanna be with my mom. Can you... Can you do that for me?"

It took him a minute, but Derek could finally breathe out a rough reply. "I could do anything for you."

"Thanks," the human replied. Derek could hear the sad smile in his voice.

Suddenly, a loud buzzing rang through the room. It sounded a lot like his alarm clock.

"Time to get up, Sourwolf."

"No!" Derek exclaimed, jumping up. He looked around for the source of the sound, prepared to destroy it. The damned clock wasn't next to his bed where it was supposed to be. He turned panicked eyes to Stiles, finally, and his gut twisted. There was so much blood.

The human offered him a soft smile. "I didn't feel it," he said.

Derek reached forward, hand trembling as he gently touched Stiles' bloody chest. "I... Stiles..." His hand twisted in the torn fabric of the blood-soaked shirt. The buzzing got louder and the room got fuzzy. "I want to stay here." 

Stiles smiled and sat up, placing his hand over Derek's on his chest. "Don't be stupid," he scolded warmly. 

Derek couldn't even reply. He just pulled Stiles into his chest, squeezing tightly.

" _Now_ who's saying goodbye?" Stiles questioned softly, holding Derek just as tightly.

"Shut up," Derek growled.

With a start, Derek sat up in his bed.

Alone.

He swiped a clawed hand in the direction of his alarm clock with an angry howl. Bits and pieces of the fucking thing went flying. It made him feel a little bit better. But only a little bit. There was still a huge, gaping, human-sized hole in his chest.

**TLA**

Isaac found himself laughing despite thinking he should cry. "Stop it, stop it!" He pleaded, wrapping arms around his middle. "Did that really happen?"

The guest wolf grinned, chuckling himself. "It did. He stunk for a week."

The curly-haired wolf burst into laughter again. He could totally see it. Leave it to Stiles Stilinski to save a skunk from a couple of zombies. He _would_.

"Yeah..." Adrien said, sobering. "He was amazing."

Isaac wilted a bit and frowned. "So..." he began, not really wanting to ask. But, "What happened?"

The dark-haired stranger sighed. "I think I should tell your alpha before I tell you. I'm sorry."

"Oh no, that makes sense. He deserves to know." Even though he _doesn't_ deserve to have to know. Isaac would volunteer himself over Stiles to be taken from Derek. He knew his alpha loved him, cared for him, would mourn him, but he knew that everything would be okay. Derek would miss him, but he would get through it. He would move on.

Isaac knew, with every fiber of his being, that there was nothing beyond Stiles for Derek. There was nothing to move on to. The pack probably couldn't even put a band-aid on the pain that their alpha would feel, let alone ease the ache.

Adrien lifted a large hand and squeezed the blonde wolf's shoulder comfortingly.

**TLA**

Derek had been staring at the bookbag for at least an hour. He wanted to open it. He wanted to see what was in it. But. _But_... Opening it made it all real. If he opened it and found all of Stiles' stuff... without Stiles...

However, if he opened it and didn't find anything of Stiles' then-

He put his head in hands. Who was he fucking kidding? He loved Stiles more than anything, so of course he would fucking die.

With a roar, he swiped the bag across the room. He picked up the chair it had been sitting on and tossed it away as well. He slammed his fists into his kitchen table, splintering it in two. He threw one half towards the TV and the other towards the glass patio doors. He felt a flash of satisfaction when he heard the loud shatter of broken glass.

By the time he'd sunk to his knees-anger gone, throat raw- it looked like a couple tornados had been tossed around his house. It was destroyed. And he didn't fucking care.

At all.

Why should he? Everything he cared about was taken away anyways. All he'd done was save Fate the trouble.

He slumped down against the couch, which he only managed to shred a little bit, and looked around at the mess. He didn't feel better; in fact, he felt worse. All he could think about was how Stiles would react when he got home.

_"What the hell, Sourwolf? Is it that time of the month already? Should I get some Midol from Lydia?"_

"Shut up, Stiles," he growled.

_"Don't growl at me you bastard."_

Despite everything, Derek chuckled. Then, he remembered everything and put his head in his hands again-eyes burning and a huge lump in his throat. "Why didn't I just come get you?"

"Don't you fucking dare blame yourself, Derek Michael Hale."

His head jerked up. What the hell?

"Don't deny it because you totally would. I know you."

Seriously. What. The actual. Fuck?

"No matter what, you're not allowed to think it was your fault. Promise?"

Derek's eyes turned warily to the bookbag he'd tossed across the room earlier. He'd shredded it with his claws by accident and some stuff had fallen from it. Including a camera that was playing a video... He edged towards it, recognizing Stiles' face on the screen and picked it up with shaking hands.

"You have to promise me that you won't get all angsty and blamey on yourself. If anything happens to me. I made the decision to stay, not you. So, you promise? I'll wait."

The alpha watched as Stiles just looked at his fingernails for little bit. After a minute, Stiles started humming. Derek waited for him to finish talking, but he just kept on humming. He eventually started drumming on his chest. Derek rolled his eyes. "I promise," he said, even though it felt stupid and actually kind of hurt.

After a couple of seconds delay, Stiles on the screen smiled brightly. "Thanks, Sourwolf." He laughed, an achingly familiar sound that Derek instantly wanted to rewind. "That wasn't too hard, was it? I hope I timed it right. I probably did. You're boring and predictable," he added with a wink.

Derek scoffed. "I'm predictable? Who's making a zombie survivor video like in all of his favorite crappy movies?"

"You better not be dissing the zombie movies," screen!Stiles exclaimed.

Derek's body couldn't decide between a laugh or a sob, so the noise that escaped him was a mixture of both. Of course Stiles could make him feel a lot better and way worse at the same time.

"It'll all be okay, Sourwolf. You'll see."

**TLA**


End file.
